


Perchance To Dream

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Jim needs a hug, M/M, Post-Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: In the wake of Spock's death, the entire crew mourns as they sail for home. Bones worries for Jim, who seems to be suppressing his grief at losing his husband. On an away mission, Jim comes into contact with a strange lotus flower. Its pollen makes him fall asleep and he dreams of Spock, who tells him that his spirit still lives in Jim's mind and that he can visit Jim in his sleep. Is it really Spock, or is Jim in danger of falling under the spell of the lotus forever?(Set between Wrath of Khan and Search For Spock.)





	1. Chapter 1

_Chief Medical Officer’s Log, stardate 8186.7_. _It’s been...two months since our encounter with Khan Noonien Singh. Two months since we lost one of the best and bravest officers Starfleet has ever produced. And two months since my best friend lost his soulmate in one fell swoop._

_I can’t imagine what Jim is going through. Never had a tuh-hee-la myself. Never loved anyone that hard. What Jim and Spock had...it comes around maybe once in a thousand years or more. And now..._

_It ain’t like Jim Kirk don’t know loss. His parents were slaughtered on Tarsus IV when he was just a youngun. His brother was killed by those pancake bats on Deneva. He had to sacrifice Edith Keeler to save the whole damn future of humanity. He wasn’t even allowed to see his own son for 24 years. But Spock...Spock was his other half. From the very beginning, it was always them, even if it did take them eight years to pull their heads out of their asses and get together._

_We’re all hurting. Spock was...well loved on this ship, by everyone. But Jim acts like nothing has happened at all. He doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t so much as look at that empty science station. You’d never know that he watched his own husband die two months ago. I stayed with him in his quarters for two weeks afterward—he didn’t cry **once**. And I’ve seen Jim Kirk cry at Disney movies!_

_Everyone’s walking around on eggshells around him, including me. What can we say? What good would it do? I’m a doctor, not a psychologist. I wish Starfleet would go ahead and start putting counselors on the ships like they say they’re going to...God knows we could use one right now._

_Anyway. I have another one of those damn headaches again. I’m going to sleep it off. Dr. Leonard McCoy, signing off._

Bones sighed deeply, rubbing his throbbing temples. The migraines had started shortly after Spock’s death—they would be back to Earth soon enough, and then Bones could go spend a couple months on the family plantation, where there was peace and quiet and real mint juleps.

Bones went into his bathroom and splashed some cool water on his face. Then he raised his head and stared into his own blue eyes in the mirror. “Things ain’t been alright since you left us, Spock,” he whispered. “You left Jim bleeding...an’ I don’ know if I can sew him back up this time.”

* * *

Jim sighed, settling in his captain’s chair, his morning cup of coffee clutched in his right hand. “The ship feels awfully empty without the kids here,” he commented to the morning bridge crew.

Sulu smiled, looking over his shoulder from the helm. “I understand completely, sir. When my little Demora left home for Starfleet Academy, Ben and I got a real case of empty nest syndrome. We ended up adopting a dog.”

“Maybe we should think about getting some emotional support animals on board,” Jim said. Then he chuckled. “On second thought, potty breaks could get a bit complicated.”

“Not to mention _messy_,” Uhura added.

“Admiral Kirk,” said Chekov, looking over his scanner. “I am receiving a distress signal coming from ze planet Homera. Sensors indicate debris from a small runabout on ze surface.”

“Any lifesigns?”

Chekov pursed his lips. “Too far avay to tell yet. Should ve investigate?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jim replied. “After all, I’m sure a _short_ stop won’t delay us all that much. Set a course for Homera, Mr. Sulu, three quarter impulse.”

“Inputting coordinates now,” Sulu said, “and slowing to three quarter impulse.”

The ship slowed out of warp, and Kirk punched a button on his armrest. “Kirk to sickbay. Bones, prepare a medical team of two for beam down. We’ll meet them in Transporter Room 3.”

_Roger that._

“Did you say ‘we’, sir?” said Uhura, raising an eyebrow.

“I did. I haven’t been off this ship in two months, Commander. I’d like to stretch my legs a bit.”

Everyone on the bridge discreetly shared concerned looks, but no one said a word.

* * *

A landing party consisting of two nurses, two security guards, and Jim beamed down to the surface next to the campsite where the signal was coming from. There was a broken down, dilapidated shuttlecraft with vines growing over it and a campfire that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while.

“Weapons out,” Jim order his crew. “We don’t know what we could be encountering here. Barnes, check the shuttlecraft.”

“Ay sir.”

Jim and the others cautiously approached the edge of the clearing, peering into the innocuous looking trees. “Hello?” Jim called out. “Anyone out there? We’re answering your distress signal!”

“Sir!” called Barnes from the doorway of the shuttle. “I’ve found remains inside covered in moss. Two humans, one Andorian. It looks like they’ve been dead for several months, maybe a year.”

“Damn,” Jim swore. “So no one was alive to shut off the distress signal. Poor bastards. Okay, let’s try to identify the passengers and the runabout so we can beam their remains aboard. Ogawa, have McCoy send down some body bags. They deserve final rites.”

“Ay sir!”

“What could have killed them?” Jim asked Nurse Barnes.

Barnes scratched his neck. “I’m not sure. It was strange. They were all stretched out in their bunks--like they died in their sleep.”

“Strange,” Kirk agreed. “Nevertheless, let’s get them to the ship so McCoy can do an autopsy on them.”

“Ay sir.”

Once the body bags were beamed down, the other officers began to load the bodies up. Jim started to leave the edge of the clearing, but something growing on the bark of a tree caught his attention--a flower. It was white with a tinge of blue on its petals, and its shape and design reminded Jim of an Earth lotus flower. The main difference was a large, protruding, yellow pistil in the middle, coated in pollen. Jim stepped closer, studying the flower in fascination. As he approached, the delicate petals began to shudder..

Suddenly, the flower surged and misted Jim with a fine spray of yellow dust. Jim coughed in surprise, gasping in some of the spores. He stumbled backward. “What the...”

Suddenly Jim’s vision swam, and his knees buckled. “Uh oh,” he mumbled as he swayed and fell to the ground. The last thing he heard was the concerned cries of his officers in the distance before everything went dark.

* * *

Jim slowly came too, comfortable and relaxed. He rubbed his eyes, but didn’t open them yet. As his senses came back to him, he realized he was in his bed on the _Enterprise_, wearing his nicest satin pajamas. Jim sighed lazily. “What a strange dream,” he murmured.

“Indeed. You were muttering in your sleep the whole time.”

Jim sat up bolt right at the voice. He turned to see someone with dark hair, elf-like ears, chartreuse skin, and deep brown eyes laced with love sitting beside him in the bed.

Jim swallowed. “_Spock_,” he squeaked.

There he was, as clearly as Jim remembered him. Sternly manicured hair slightly mussed from sleep. Midnight blue eyeshadow and sharp eyeliner flawless as always. Wearing Starfleet sleep pants and Jim’s “Go climb a rock” shirt, his wedding ring on a chain hanging around his neck. _Just_ like Jim remembered.

Spock reached out to stroke his cheek. “Did you sleep well, my _ashayam_?”

“No, no.” Jim caught his hand. “It’s...it’s not you. It _can’t_ be. You...you _died_, Spock. I watched you die...I felt it.”

Spock took in a deep breath and nodded mournfully. “Indeed I did, regrettably.”

“So then this is a dream,” Jim surmised mournfully. “You’re not really here.”

“I did not say that.”

Jim looked at him questioningly.

“My _ashayam_,” Spock murmured again, drawing him close. “Did you think I would truly leave you? You are my _t’hy’la_, and therefore we are one, forever. Our _katras_ are inimitably linked. My mortal coil may have been desolated, but you carry my spirit with you. I’ve been trying to reach you, _k’diwa_. To tell you that I’m still with you. That I have been, and always shall be.”

Jim gasped, trembling. Then he shook his head. “No. No, this is just a dream. My mind giving me what I want. You’re not real.”

“If I were not real, would I know that your favorite movie is _The Princess Bride_? Or that your favorite Shakespeare play is _Much Ado About Nothing_, even though you swear that it is _Hamlet_? Or that you’re ticklish around your waist?” Spock’s fingers lightly danced over Jim’s belly.

Jim giggled involuntarily and jerked away from him. “Still...you’re in my head. You’d know everything about me anyway.”

“Logical...but can you honestly tell me that _this_ is a hallucination?” Spock leaned forward and cupped his chin, kissing him tenderly. Jim’s eyelids fluttered shut at the familiar and wonderful feeling of Spock’s Cupid’s bow lips pressed against his, more right to him than any sensation in the universe, even more right than sitting in his captain’s chair.

“I love you, my James,” Spock murmured. “And I am not going anywhere...”

Suddenly everything went bright, and Jim was squinting against the harsh, clinical, white light of the sickbay.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jim. Jim!” Bones was exclaiming, popping into his line of vision. He gave Jim’s shoulders a gentle shake. “Are ya with me?”

“Wuh...where did...” Jim dazedly looked around.

“Jim!” Bones snapped his fingers. “Look at me.”

Jim blinked several times. “Huh? Bones, what’s going on?”

“You passed out on that damn planet! Nurse Barnes said you just collapsed all of a sudden! Are you alright?!”

“Um...” Jim felt a deep sinking in his chest as cold hard reality flooded back into him. He’d felt so warm, so _happy_...but it had all been a dream. Just a dream.

“Yeah,” Jim choked. “I’m alright.”

“Like hell,” Bones growled. “Goddamn irresponsible, runnin’ off on some damn away mission like some junior grade lieutenant, comin’ into contact with God knows what-”

Jim grinned wryly, despite the cold feeling of disappointment in his chest. “Good to know I’ll be making a full recovery.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah but you only apply your bedside manner when someone’s on death's door. If you’re grouching at me, it means I’m gonna be just fine.”

“You won’t be if you make another fool move like that again!” Bones threatened.

“I thought doctors took an oath to do no harm?”

“Yeah, and Starfleet officers take an oath to not be idiots. Clearly we’re both bad at keeping promises. Now, any idea what made you take a dive like that?”

“Um...there was this odd flower, like a lotus blossom...it sprayed me with pollen-”

“Oh God,” Bones said, rolling his eyes. “This crew and freaky space flowers. I better do a blood test to make sure there are no toxins in your system-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” Jim said quickly, sitting up. “I feel alright, really. The spores’ effect was probably temporary.”

“But what if this flower has something to do with the dead bodies we found on Homera?”

“Bones, I _promise_ you,” Jim said. “If I start feeling not myself, I will report to you immediately. I swear. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve survived space pollen.” He grinned.

The doctor looked conflicted, but sighed. “Fine. But you’re off duty for the rest of the day. And I’m gonna have a science team beam down there to get a specimen of that flower ‘fore we leave orbit.”

“Whatever you say, Bones,” Jim said placatingly. He slid off the biobed. “Am I free to go?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bones sighed, reading over his PADD. Jim’s vitals had _seemed_ normal enough. The pollen appeared to have just put him to sleep. The only odd thing was a significant spike in Jim’s serotonin levels while he had been asleep, but that wasn’t really that alarming.

He just hoped Jim was right and that there was nothing to worry about.

* * *

Jim let out a heavy sigh once he was out of sickbay. He leaned against the wall in the corridor and pressed a hand to his heart. “But it felt so _real_,” he whispered to himself. He shook his head and pushed himself off the wall, heading for his quarters to have a shower.

* * *

That night, Jim slid into bed. He turned his head and stared at the empty spot next to him. Then he rolled over and shut his eyes tightly. He was asleep in moments...

Suddenly he sat bolt right up, sensing something. He checked the left side of the bed again. Still empty. Jim let out a huff of breath. He was just about to roll back over and go to sleep when something touched his ears...music, coming from another room. Jim’s eyebrows furled and he threw the covers back, sliding his feet into his slippers and slipping on his robe. It was dark green. Spock had gifted it to him for Hanukkah, claiming that the color would bring out the speckles in his hazel eyes.

Jim slowly stalked through the corridor, following the trail of soft, gentle music like one of the mice of Hamlin following after the Piper. It was airy and ethereal, in a minor key; sweetly haunting.

The music brought him to Observation Deck 3...one of his and Spock’s favorite date spots. When Jim cautiously stepped through the open doors, he found that the fluorescents overhead were off. Instead, there was soft, flickering candlelight all around. The sky outside was unusually still, chugging by slowly on impulse power, so that he could see the constellations standing out against the black of space out the window.

“They are beautiful, are they not?” Jim jumped at the sound of Spock’s voice. He looked over his shoulder to see Spock sitting at a table, gently strumming his lyre—so _that_ was the source of the music. Spock was not wearing pajamas this time, but rather, the black and lavender robes he’d been wearing when he reappeared on the _Enterprise_ after his aborted attempt at _kolinahr_. Jim had been so angry, so _hurt_ when Spock left for Gol, but that ensemble had briefly made him forget about his bruised heart. He’d literally taken Jim’s breath away in that moment. And he looked equally breathtaking now.

Spock’s nimble fingers didn’t falter in their playing as he gazed up at Jim. “Good evening, _ashayam_,” he said with a serene smile.

“Nonononono, this is another dream!” Jim groaned. “You’re not really here!”

“But I am, Jim. I’m in your head, just as I told you I would be.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jim said miserably.

Spock stopped playing. He studied Jim for a moment, then put his lyre aside. He stood and placed his hands on Jim’s shoulders. “It is logical that you would not trust that I am real. It must seem quite impossible. The more I visit you, the more you will come to see that this is not a simple dream. But that will happen in time. For now, I merely ask that you allow yourself to enjoy being here with me, and forget about whether I am real or a mere figment of your imagination.”

Jim looked up at him reluctantly, feeling his resolve slip. “And what will we do here?”

Spock smiled gently. He looked up and said, “Computer, play Debussy.”

Soft, archaic jazz began to play on the intercom. Jim felt Spock inch closer, slipping his hands into his.

“Dance with me,” Spock gently whispered.

Jim unwittingly began to sway with Spock, then he gave in completely, shutting his eyes and laying his head on Spock’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around Spock’s slim waist, pulling him close.

“I suppose there are worse things to dream of,” Jim sighed. Spock chuckled.

They moved to the music, in their own little world, and the song never seemed to end. Jim found himself smiling as he melted into the feeling of being back in those arms. He rubbed his cheek against the soft, smooth fabric of Spock’s clothes.

“I miss you so much,” Jim whispered.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Spock rumbled back. “When we are apart, I ache for you. But we will always find each other, my _t’hy’la_. This much I know is true.”

Inevitably, however, Jim’s consciousness began to rise to the surface, bringing him back to the real world. Spock, the music, the candlelight, it all slipped away, and Jim’s eyes opened. He had never left his bed.

Jim exhaled in disappointment and rolled over to see what time it was. Then he started, jerking out of bed. “1000 hours! Oh my God, I’m two hours late for my shift!” He scrambled into his uniform and dashed out the door as if he was running from the devil himself.

Jim arrived on the bridge, panting slightly. “Commander Chung, I’m so sorry. I-I must’ve slept through my alarm. I relieve you.”

The woman in Jim’s chair nodded and got up for him, looking exhausted and a little annoyed that she’d had to work overtime. Jim made a mental note to himself to offer to cover two hours of her shift tonight as he sheepishly slid into his seat.

Jim’s skin was still abuzz with the sensation of being in Spock’s arms again, and he thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair: _Is it possible it wasn’t just a dream?..._

* * *

After shift was over, Jim hurried to his quarters and locked the door. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the last vestiges on the bond. _Spock?_ he called through. _It’s me. Are you there?_

He waited. But the bond remained as hauntingly silent as before.

Jim frowned, opening his eyes. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself. Then his eyes trailed over to the bed. “Maybe...”

Jim took off his shoes and jacket, then climbed into bed. He laid back and closed his eyes. “I don’t even know if I _can_ fall asleep, after the full 12 hours I got last night...” he muttered to himself.

“_Ashayam,_ you have returned.”

Jim opened his eyes to see Spock leaning over him. “Well that was easy,” he said.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Spock said as Jim sat up.

“I guess this dream really isn’t going away then,” Jim said. “Either you really are here or my subconscious is very stubborn.”

Spock chuckled, taking his hand and stroking his knuckles. “What would you like to do, Jim?”

Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”

“Why do we not take a walk around the arboretum? The Tarkalian eucalyptus tree should be in full bloom by now.”

“Whatever you say.”

A few minutes later they were walking in the small garden, arm in arm. “I was late for my shift today,” Jim admitted sheepishly. “Overslept.”

“You are only human,” Spock reminded him.

“Still...I’m the leader. I have to set an example.”

“Enough work talk, Jim,” Spock said kindly. “We are here to enjoy ourselves.”

“You’re right.” Jim looked around them. “It is beautiful in here. I’m glad you suggested it.”

Even though the sunlight was artificial, the way it filtered through the leaves like a hazy golden curtain was enough to entrance Jim. The Tarkalian eucalyptus was shedding its blossoms, their delicate yellow petals fluttering down around them like snow.

Jim stared up at the tree. “It’s beautiful.”

Spock pulled him gently into his arms. “Not as beautiful as you, my James.”

Jim burst out laughing. “Really? That cheesy line?”

“Cheesy as it may be, it is true. Besides, you have used the same exact line on me many times.”

“Lord, have I?” Jim giggled. “How you put up with me, I’ll never know.”

Spock lightly traced his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “You make it a pleasure, _ashayam_,” he murmured.

Jim’s eyes fell closed as Spock tenderly pressed his lips against his. He felt all the tension in his muscles slip away, all feeling of doubt and apprehension fade, if only just for a moment. Spock’s kisses, always so sure and sweet, always managed to make everything else disappear.

He sighed as Spock pulled away. “I never did ask—who taught you how to kiss so good?”

“You did, my _k’diwa_,” Spock chuckled with amusement. “Although I like to think part of my aptitude is natural talent. You once told me a kiss is like a message, and the way a person kisses back is their reply. Two people can hold an entire conversation without ever saying a word.”

Jim grinned wryly up at him. “I’d say we communicate pretty well, Mr. Spock.” That reminded him. “By the way, I tried to contact you through our bond, but there was no answer. Then I laid down for a nap and here you are. What’s up with that?”

“Ah, yes. Well, since I no longer have a physical body, there is no longer a link between our minds. My _katra_ exists only in the confines of your brain, _k’diwa_. Therefore, this is the only way we can see each other.”

“Like a ghost, haunting my soul,” Jim said softly.

Spock stopped, cupping Jim’s cheek. “My James,” he whispered. “It pains me to see you this saddened.”

Jim leaned into the touch. “It’s been so hard...I’ve been trying my best to hold it together. My nightmares have just been replaying the sight of you, weak, dying, all alone in that glass chamber. Your eyesight was taken from you in the end—you couldn’t even see me one last time. I couldn’t even hold you as you died. Bones and Scotty had to hold me back from breaking into that chamber and flooding the whole deck with radiation. I didn’t care. All I could think of was you. Maybe if...I’d tried a little harder-”

“_T’hy’la_, no,” Spock whispered fiercely. “You are not to blame. I knew what must be done the moment I walked into the unit. One man for an entire ship...it’s a small price to pay.”

“Not when that man is you,” Jim choked.

Spock smiled sadly. “I believe I can empathize. For if our roles had been switched, if it had been you in that chamber, twenty men could not have been enough to hold me back. My love for you would have doomed us all.”

Jim took in a shaky breath. “Still...it’s my fault. If Khan hadn’t hated me so much, if I’d just _killed_ him years ago like every instinct in my being told me to do-”

“You will cease. You did not dispose of Khan the way he would have any of our crew because you are a good man, and I would not have you any other way. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of a man so evil. Khan got his comeuppance in the end, and I am still here with you. You won. He lost everything.”

“I know. I just...I...”

“Sir?”

Jim blinked. Spock was no longer there. He was standing in the middle of the arboretum in his socks, with his own arms wrapped around himself, alone except for a confused looking junior Andorian science officer. “I’m sorry, Admiral,” they apologized. “I know they say never to wake a sleepwalker, but-”

“Sleepwalking?” Jim said, blinking in confusion. Yes, it must be. He’d gone to sleep in his own bed and now he was here. He looked at the crew member. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 1800 hours, sir.”

He’d been asleep for almost four hours. It had felt like barely 20 minutes. “I see. Er, thank you...what’s your name?”

“Crewmen Althorketh, sir,” the Andorian said.

“Althorketh. Right. Well, I’ll be on my way.” Jim dazedly made his way out of the arboretum. “Oh.” He stopped and added over his shoulder, “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention this to anyone, especially Dr. McCoy. We know how much he worries unnecessarily.”

Althorketh nodded, looking unsure, but in Jim’s experience, low ranking officers were generally more concerned with pleasing their superiors than following protocol.

_I’d better set up some traps for myself in my room in case I go sleepwalking again. If Bones catches wind that I’ve turned into a somnambulist, I’ll never get a moment’s peace._

_But there’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing, right? Just indulging in a little...fantasy. That’s completely normal._

_Yes. It’s harmless._


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three weeks, and Jim was walking on air.

Never before had he had so much _fun_, with anyone. His and Spock’s lives had been so bogged down with responsibility that they had barely gotten any long periods of free time to just do things they enjoyed (besides sex of course, because there was always time for making love). Jim and Spock’s “dates” took them all sorts of places...like...

“Wow,” Jim sighed, standing up with Spock to applaud with the audience. “I’ve always loved seeing live ballet. Tchaikovsky was really meant to be _performed_, not listened to on record. The dancers are what bring the story to life. Plus the sound is so much _richer_ when the orchestra brings it to life. And these seats! Man, I can see why people fight for the chance to sit in the box.”

“Indeed.” Spock studied Jim. “May I say, you look most dashing in your tuxedo.”

“I always thought civilian evening wear was much more flattering than formal Starfleet uniforms,” Jim said. “But _you_, you put me to shame.” He stared at Spock’s long, flowing Vulcan robes. “I almost forgot to watch the dancing, you look so lovely.”

“You flatter me.” Spock slipped his white glove from his hand to kiss the back of it. “But truly, I am in the company of the most winsome individual in the universe.”

They went rock climbing in Nevada...

“Bones is always saying I need more exercise,” Jim laughed as he pulled himself slightly further up the steeply sloping sedentary slab. He tightened his rope.

“I do not believe one can burn many calories in their sleep, _ashayam_,” Spock called from below.

Jim paused in his ascent to hang suspended from his harness, waiting for Spock to catch up, swinging slightly. He gazed out across the Red Rock Canyon, rust-colored majesty as far as the eye could see. “Spending so much time in space...you tend to forget the wonders on your very own planet,” Jim pondered aloud.

“This place reminds me greatly of the red sands of my homeworld. Although there are not nearly as many distinct biomes there as there are on yours. Earth is indeed a remarkably beautiful planet.” Spock gazed at him lovingly, clinging onto his suspension rope. It was silly, in a way. Jim was dreaming; they could’ve flown up to the summit if they wanted to. But Jim wanted to experience this the realistic way. The way they might have gotten to had Spock not...

“It must be a beautiful planet, to produce one so breath-taking as yourself,” Spock said, shaking Jim from his melancholy thoughts.

Jim, enchanted, smiled at him. “Race you to the top,” he said, grabbing onto the rock and scrambling upward, Spock hot on his tail.

They spent a day at the county fair in Jim’s home state of Iowa...

“Spock, let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jim exclaimed, as giddy as a little boy as he pulled Spock along with one hand, cotton candy clenched in the other.

“Slow down, my love,” Spock chuckled. “There is no hurry. We do not have to wait in lines, remember?”

They slid into a carriage and the wheel slowly took them up. Jim looked over the edge as the people on the ground grew smaller and smaller. Finally the wheel stopped with them at the apex.

Jim smirked, scooching closer to Spock. “I don’t suppose you know what we’re supposed to do when we stop at the top of the Ferris wheel, do you?”

“Making an inference from your increased proximity and dilated pupils, I would say it is something amorous?”

“Brilliant as always, Mr. Spock.” Jim pulled him closer so they could make out. The wheel seemed to stay frozen as long as they wanted it too.

But not all their dates were sweeping adventures. Some were very simple indeed.

“I cannot believe this is a fantasy of yours,” Spock chuckled as he moved his black knight.

“Hey, sometimes I miss these days.” Jim looked around fondly at his quarters on the _Enterprise_—the _old Enterprise_, before Starfleet’s refit of the old girl. “A new exciting adventure every week, our love blossoming like a Alvedorian rain daisy...”

“When we were both too apprehensive to share our feelings?” Spock supplied.

Jim shrugged. “I dunno. The mutual pining was agonizing sometimes, but there’s something wonderful about newborn love too. The jitters, the flirting, the stolen looks...that terrible excitement about whether or not they feel the same way.”

“Speak for yourself. I was in constant torment. My whole life I was taught not feel any of those things—excitement, exhilaration, nervousness, longing—-and then one pest of a human comes along and turns your entire way of life on its axis.”

Jim grinned at him, blushing. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. It’s not everyday the love of your life tells you you’ve flipped his whole world upside down and so clearly resents you for it,” he teased.

Spock smiled. “I do not resent you in the least. You have made my life so much brighter and worthwhile by being in it. You showed me that I could pursue happiness without losing myself...and so much of my inner turmoil faded away.”

Jim sniffled, closing his eyes. “You...oh, you...I don’t even know what to say...”

“Well I do: thank you. And also, check.”

Jim looked down at the board. “Hey, no fair! You distracted me with heartfelt declarations of love!”

“As if you have never purposely put me off my own game by batting your eyelashes at me.”

Jim did so now, giving him his most I’m-so-cute-and-I-know-it look. “It works, doesn’t it?”

* * *

“It’s been forever since I’ve been skiing!” Jim laughed breathlessly, flopping onto the couch in front of the fire in the ski lodge. “I used to go all the time before they gave me the _Enterprise._”

“Why did you not tell me?” Spock asked, shifting closer so he could wind his long limbs around Jim. He looked adorable in his blue beanie and thick brown sweater. “We could have planned a trip.”

Jim snorted. “Sweetheart, you would have been _miserable_. Out there in the cold? Your little Vulcan ears would’ve broken off.” He chuckled, lightly tracing the shape of one of Spock’s lobes, then drawing his finger around the corner of his jaw, down his neck.

“But I cannot feel aversion to cold now,” Spock pointed out.

Jim frowned. “Yeah,” he said wistfully, staring into the fire. It was so easy to forget that this was all in his mind.

Spock seemed to notice the change and cleared his throat. “Is not hot chocolate with marshmelons customary to drink after a day in the snow?” he inquired.

Jim laughed. “Marsh_mallows_. And that would be perfect right now, actually.”

“Here.” Spock handed Jim a mug from the coffee table that had not been there a moment ago. “Drink. It should be just the right temperature.”

It was. It was creamy and delicious and absolutely perfect. Just like everything else.

Jim was surprised when Spock picked up a second mug for himself. “Careful, darling. You know what that stuff does to you.”

“One cup will not hurt.” Spock smiled as he took a sip.

“Remember our wedding night?” Jim murmured.

“Not much of it. I perhaps consumed too many chocolate martinis.”

“_Perhaps?_” Jim laughed. “You tried to set our marriage license on fire, shouting ‘You will not be able to return me without the receipt!’”

Spock blushed. “I am glad I amused you.”

Jim tucked his head under Spock’s chin, curling up to his side. “I was so in love with you that night,” he murmured. “I still am, even more so now than I was then. I loved you when we got married. I loved you when you left for Gol. I loved you when you lost your brain. I loved you when you almost married T’Pring. I loved you at every chess match—though I loved you a little less when you won,” Jim said with a chuckle. Then he became serious again. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you, Spock, and it only grows more everyday. I didn't know I had this much love inside me.”

Spock pressed his forehead to Jim’s. “I know, my _ashayam_. I feel the same way. The intensity of my emotions toward you scared me so that it drove me to seek _kolinahr_. It was almost too late when I realized that was the most grave error of my life. I was ready to beg for you to give me another chance on my hands and knees when I returned. My pride was not worth losing you forever.”

“I wouldn’t have made you do _that_,” Jim chuckled. Then he added slyly, “Although I never mind seeing you on your _knees_...”

Spock clicked his tongue at him, gently scolding. “Wicked.”

“Yes, and you love it.” Jim leaned in to kiss him when he felt something—some_one_—jerking his shoulder.

“Admiral?” A voice echoed in his ear from far away. “_Admiral?_”

Jim gasped slightly, eyes snapping open. His chin was propped on his hand, supported by the arm of his captain’s chair. He blinked several times and realized Ensign Caplan—the one who’d been calling his name—was standing beside him. From their posts, Sulu, Chekov, Ramirez, and Sha’krell were all staring at him in concern.

_He’d fallen asleep on duty_.

Jim jerked in his chair, sitting up. “I’m sorry, I...just drifted off for a moment. My sincerest apologies, everyone.”

Everyone was sharing unhappy looks. Jim grimaced inwardly. That was the _fourth_ time he’d fallen asleep at the switch in the last three weeks. And twice, he’d overslept again and been late for his shift. Plus he was _really_ backed up on paperwork. As the one in charge, as an _admiral_, he _had_ to do better. He had to set an example.

But it had been so hard to stay awake lately! Jim had always been a fairly light sleeper—captain’s instincts, ready to spring into action at any hour. But since the dreams had started Jim had started sleeping like a _log_, dead to the whole universe. It didn’t help that his dreams were so inviting—he wasn’t exactly motivated to end them so soon.

He was taking more naps on his off hours, he was going to bed earlier and earlier each night...the night before he’d skipped dinner to get some extra hours of sleep. And James Kirk was not one to skip a meal.

Jim had to try harder not to give in to sleep so much. As nice as the dream dates were, he was shirking his responsibility. He had to do better. Had to...

* * *

Jim sighed, breathing in the salty air. It was an absolutely perfect day at the beach. It was sunny, warm, breezy, and it was only him and Spock. Not even so much as a pesky seagull to bother them.

He was sitting in a chaise lounge under an umbrella, in swim trunks, a straw hat, and his bright red Hawaiian shirt with pineapples all over it that he knew everyone hated, but he loved for its luridness alone. He scrunched his toes in the cool sand beneath his bare feet.

He turned his head lazily to look at Spock, who was sitting in an adjacent lounge, their fingers entwined between them. “I always wanted to make love to you on a beach like this one,” he said matter-of-factly. “I thought you’d look so good in the sand, your damp hair shining in the sun, your chest glimmering with drops of salt water.”

Spock peered at him over his sunglasses. “But Jim...sand is rough. And coarse. And it gets everywhere,” he said in the most serious tone.

Jim cackled. “Why did I ever make you sit through those movies?” he said. “I must be some sort of sadist...damn, that water looks good.”

“Would you like to go swimming?”

Jim looked at him. “You _hate_ water.”

“I also hate snow and cold. That did not stop us from going skiing.”

“True...okay.” They got up, hand in hand, and walked to the edge of the wet sand. Jim stripped off his shirt and hat. Spock too took off his shirt and stepped out of his sandals...then dropped his trunks.

Jim blushed. “Oh! You didn’t say you wanted to...”

Spock looked over his shoulder, smirking ever so slightly. “You did once say there should be nothing between us, did you not?”

“I...” Jim grinned and let his shorts fall to the ground too. “You make an excellent point, Mr. Spock,” he giggled, following his husband into the gently crashing waves.

It wasn’t like Jim had never skinny dipped before, but the sensation was still foreign to him, the warm water lapping at his calves, then thighs, then... “Remind me why I don’t go to more nude beaches?” he sighed.

“You have a very possessive bondmate who doesn’t want you showing off your body to anyone else?” Spock reminded him.

“Oh yeah. That’s why,” Jim chuckled.

“Besides, you cannot legally make love to someone on a public beach, even if it is nude.”

“You can on Risa...not that I’d know anything about that,” Jim added quickly.

“Mm-hmm...” Spock suddenly splashed him in the face.

“Hey!” Jim laughed. “I’m gonna get you for that!”

He and Spock chased each other in the water, laughing without a care in the world. Finally Jim caught up with and tackled Spock onto the shore. They panted, still giggling, and Jim gazed down adoringly at his beloved husband lying underneath in the sand.

“Just like I said,” he murmured. “Beautiful.”

Spock stared back up at him, naked—both literally and metaphorically—and inviting. Jim leant down and kissed him deeply, the waves breaking around them, soaking their legs and torsos over and over again. Spock clutched his waist and rolled them over, taking control and not letting their lips disconnect for an instant.

“Spock,” Jim moaned softly. “This is..._heaven_.”

“I must agree wholeheartedly,” Spock murmured in his ear. His hand was drifting down Jim’s belly, past his waist, reaching for his-

* * *

“Hey!”

Jim lifted his head from where it was resting in his folded arms. He was sitting at his usual table in the senior officers’ mess, his uneaten tray of lunch sitting in front of him. There was a small crick in his neck from being slumped over. He’d dozed off..._again_. “Oh God, what time is it-?”

“It’s 12:36; don’t worry, you ain’t runnin’ late.”

“Oh thank God.” Jim reached for his sandwich and started to bring it his mouth-

Bones grabbed his wrist. “Jim, we need to _talk_,” he said sternly.

“Can I eat while we talk?”

“I mean we need to talk _in_ private.”

Jim stared longingly at his sandwich. His stomach gurgled.

“You can bring the damn sandwich with you,” Bones snapped.

“Okay.” Jim wrapped his sandwich in his napkin and followed him out of the mess hall. (Luckily his erection had subsided by this point.)

Five minutes and one sandwich later, they were in Bones’s office, with Jim sitting in the chair before Bones’s desk and Bones leaning against it. Even though they’d hung out in Bones’s office like this many many times, in this particular instance, Jim felt like a naughty schoolchild brought into the principal’s office for a scolding.

And in a way, he was.

“Jim, I’ve been getting some pretty concerning reports about your performance lately,” Bones began, crossing his arms. “Reports that just don’t sound like you. Falling asleep at the conn, showing up late for shifts? What’s going on with you?”

Jim shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “A man’s not allowed a few mistakes?”

“A _few_? Seems like a whole new behavioral pattern to me. Jim, you’ve been acting off since we stopped on Homera, and you _promised_ to come to me if anything even slightly changed. I trusted you to tell me if you were alright.”

“I _am _alright,” Jim snapped. “In fact I’m better than I have been for a long time. You’re always telling me to get more rest!”

“Yeah, but not _this_ much! A man your age should be getting 8 or 9 hours a night, not 12 and 15!”

“It’s not _that_ much-”

“Bullshit. I’ve been watchin’ you. You spend more time asleep than awake lately! You contracted some form of Sleepin’ Beauty syndrome on that planet, I know it!”

“You don’t know anything!” Jim exclaimed, getting from his chair. “It’s hard running a starship! It makes a man tired! But of course you wouldn’t know anything about that. You’re nothing more than a hayseed snakeoil vender. A country quack who couldn’t cure a polliwog with a case of the bends!”

Bones turned red, his eyes were wide and bright with hurt, but his mouth turned flat, and his voice came out low and rough, scarier than Jim or anyone had ever heard it. “As the senior medical professional on this vessel, I declare you unfit for duty, Admiral,” he hissed. “From now until further notice, you _will_ stay in this infirmary for observation.”

“I refuse!” Jim snarled.

Bones punched a button on his comm. “Wellesley, T’Vonga, report to my office,” he barked without breaking eye contact with Jim. “And bring _restraints_.”

The two orderlies entered moments later, body straps in hand. “Admiral Kirk is to be kept under close observation,” Bones said, voice dangerously tight. “He is to be given 5 ccs of animazine every 2 hours, and he is _not_ to be allowed to fall asleep until I say otherwise.”

“You bastard,” Jim growled like a wild animal as Bones’s two strongest staff members wrestled him into the straps secure hold. “I haven’t done anything wrong! Let me go!” he shouted as they dragged him from the office.

Bones had to take a few calming deep breaths before he proceeded to record the incident in his log. Then he called Ensign Devereaux from Botany. “Locate Sample Homera-1-A. And meet me in Toxicology Lab 2.”

* * *

Jim struggled uselessly against his restraints tying him down to the biobed. It wasn’t _fair_, he hadn’t done anything wrong! It was just a little extra sleep!

Jim cried out, getting more and more frustrated as the time passed. The animazine made him feel jittery, as if he’d had a large amount of espresso. He knew realistically that it hadn’t even been half an hour since the injection, but he was dying to go to sleep. He missed Spock.

Jim, finally giving on the straps, decided to try a different approach. He took a deep breath, as if he were meditating, forcing himself to be calm. He closed his eyes and focused on what he wanted...where he wanted to be...

And suddenly he found himself lying down in his bedroom in the Kirk family farm, his head in Spock’s lap, Spock combing his fingers through his curls. “_K’diwa_,” Spock cooed. “You left before the _fun_ could happen.”

Jim sat up. “It’s not my fault. It’s Bones! He wants to keep me awake. Away from you! They’re trying to drug me to keep me awake.”

“That will not do,” Spock said. “You belong here, with me.”

“I know it,” Jim choked, pulled Spock into his arms and squeezing hard. “I believe in you now, darling. Nothing else could possibly make me feel this _good_. You’re all I want!”

Spock smiled, cupping his face. “I am so glad to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ballet Jim and Spock watched? Sleeping Beauty, of course. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

“Doctor McCoy.” For a Vulcan, T’Vonga’s voice sounded urgent as it came on the intercom on the lab. “The Admiral has fallen asleep.”

“What?! Dammit, how!” Bones exclaimed. He and a team of scientists were wearing biosuits, the Homerian lotus flower sitting on the lab station before them.

“We do not know. Recommending another dose of animazine immediately.”

“Yes, do it!” Bones exclaimed.

T’Vonga nodded to Nurse Barnes, who sent a hypospray in Jim’s neck. They watched Jim’s biolevels. They stayed the same; Jim was fast asleep, and his serotonin levels were sky high.

“No response, sir,” T’Vonga reported. “Shall we administer another dosage?”

“No, no, too much and Jim could go into cardiac arrest!” Bones sighed in frustration. “Okay. Devereaux, you and your team find out everything you can about this damn flower! But no matter what, _no one_ is to inhale its pollen!” Bones slapped the button on the wall comm. “T’Vonga, Barnes! Prep the admiral for a biopsy!”

“Shall we administer anesthetic, sir?”

Bones sighed. “At this point it seems redundant.”

* * *

Jim’s body covered underneath the biochamber, Bones and his team performed a deep tissue scan of all his systems. “Sir, you have undoubtedly noted the Admiral’s heightened serotonin levels,” T’Vonga pointed out. “Perhaps what ails him is psychological, not physical.”

“Could be,” muttered Bones. “Could be both. But that flower is the root of this, and—wait. You see that?”

Barnes squinted at the display. “The chamber is detecting trace amounts of...plant matter? Embedded in the Admiral’s body.”

“Barnes, didn’t you say those bodies you found on Homera were covered in a mossy substance?”

“Well, yes, but...we thought that was just natural overgrowth on the remains. You don’t think that’s what killed those people...?”

“It’s a mighty good hunch. That’s how the organism works. The lotus part sprays an animal like a human with its spores, which then settle inside the body and grow into new plants from the inside, turning the poor bastard into a living, breathing Chia Pet!”

“But the increased serotonin production, sir,” T’Vonga interjected. “The catatonia—how is it connected?”

“Dunno...but it’ll likely stop when the plant matter is eradicated.”

“How do we kill the parasite, sir?” Barnes asked.

“Radiation kills most anything. Put Admiral Kirk in the chamber and give him 40 Curies. If that doesn’t work we’ll try something else.”

“Ay sir.” Barnes, T’Vonga, and the rest of the medical team moved to remove the bioscanner and gurney Jim to the radiation chamber.

Bones pursed his lips. _God, Jim...the suffering you must be going through..._

* * *

Jim and Spock were kissing languidly, lips meeting over and over, tongues sliding back and forth. “Want you,” Jim panted. “So much.”

“_Yes_,” Spock hissed, hands moving to the clasps of his jacket.

“And we have all the time in the world now,” Jim sighed as Spock made him lay back on the bed. “Just you and me...”

Spock ran his finger along his cheekbone. “_Forever_,” he promised.

* * *

“Ready to apply radiation, sir,” Barnes reported.

“This better take,” Bones muttered. “Begin radiation treatment.”

Barnes turned on the emitters and slowly raised the levels from his control pad. “5 Curies...10...20...”

“The bioreader we implanted in Kirk’s wrist is sending feedback—plant matter is decreasing, sir,” T’Vonga reported, looking up from her PADD.

“30...40 Curies!”

“Plant matter is rapidly deteriorating...it has been eradicated,” T’Vonga declared.

Bones sighed in relief. “Good. Turn it off and get him outta there!”

Barnes shut off the machine, the radiation drained, and the nurses retrieved Jim’s unconscious body from the chamber and laid him back on the biobed. “Shall we try animazine again?” T’Vonga asked.

“Let’s do it!” She handed Bones the hypospray, and Bones pressed it into his friend’s neck, and released. They waited...no response.

“Serotonin levels still high, sir,” T’Vonga reported.

“Dammit!” Bones exclaimed. “The spores are gone—why is he still asleep?!”

“If I may speak, sir—it may be that the Admiral does not _want_ to wake up,” T’Vonga suggested.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“The raised serotonin levels would suggest a heightened dream state—such as when one is having a desirable dream.”

“Desirable...you mean Jim wants to stay in the fantasy.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“So it’s your own damn stubbornness that’s keeping you from waking up, eh?” Bones grumbled at Jim’s sleeping form. “And nothing we do can wake him?”

“I’m afraid I can not answer that, sir.”

Bones sighed in frustration. “I’m going to the toxicology lab to see if they’ve come up with anything. Keep watch on him. Make sure he stays stable.”

“Ay sir,” T’Vonga said as Bones left.

* * *

Bones entered the lab in his biohazard suit to find it empty. “Hello?” he called out, but was met with only silence.

Bones looked at the innocuous flower, sitting on the station. He swallowed hard. “The fool things you drive me to do, Jim Kirk.”

He crossed the lab and raised his hands to his helmet. He twisted it and pulled it off, a soft hiss of pressurized air escaping.

_Warning. Containment breach in Toxicology Lab 2_, the computer began to blare. _Potential quarantine risk_.

Bones bent over the blossom and muttered, “Now how do you-?”

The flower suddenly burst with pollen, spraying Bones in the face. Bones stepped back, coughing and snorting. Almost immediately he felt woozy.

The doors to the lab burst open with members of the science team in containment suits.

“Sickbay,” Bones slurred, fighting to stay awake. “Tell ‘em...not to wake me...for 30 minutes—thas’ an order!” He slumped in their arms.

* * *

Bones awoke with a start. He was sitting in a rocking chair on a porch—the McCoy family home. There was the plantation, stretching out as far as the eye could see. And there in the front yard was the great peach tree his great-great Granpappy had planted with his own two hands.

Bones rubbed his eyes, just make sure he wasn’t mistaken, but this place was unmistakable. He was home.

“Here’s your lemonade, Daddy.”

Bones looked up. “Joanna!” he cried, heart soaring. “Is...is it really you, baby?”

His daughter laughed, cocking her head at him, her long dark hair following lightly in the breeze. “Of course, Daddy.”

“But you haven’t spoken to me...since the divorce. It’s been 20 years...”

“Well I’m here now,” Jo said, giving him a smile so sweet it nearly broke Bones’s heart. She offered him the big, ice cold glass. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Bones took the glass from her and held onto her hand, pressing a kiss to it. “Yes, my dear...it is,” he choked happily.

Jo beamed down at him, then turned away. “And here’s your lemonade, Papaw,” she said, handing another lemonade off to someone else in an adjacent rocking chair.

“Pap..._Daddy?_” Bones whispered.

His very own father, David Gene McCoy, was sitting beside him, alive and well. “Have a nice nap, son?” he chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.

“Y-your pyrrhoneuritis!” Bones gasped. “It’s cured?!”

“Your handiwork, of course. Going to medical school was the best decision you ever made.”

“_I_ cured-?...I saved you,” Bones whispered, close to tears. His heart swelled with happiness. “I didn’t have to...Dad, this is a _miracle_.”

“You shouldn’t sound so surprised, Daddy,” Jo said, perching on the arm of David’s chair. “You’re a hero. And now your whole family is right here to celebrate with you. Everyone you love.”

Those three words rang in Bones’s ears. _Everyone you love_. But Jim wasn’t here. Jim was his family too. And Jim was...in trouble!

Bones stood up. “No. You’re not real.”

Jo frowned. “Daddy? What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you want?”

“It _is_, baby. You have no idea how much. But this is just an illusion. And Jim needs my help. I have to wake up now.”

Jo and David frowned. “We can’t allow that,” David said. “You belong here with us.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy, but I have to go.”

Quick as a flash, Jo and David were flanking him, holding tight to his arms. “We’re not gonna let that happen,” Joanna growled.

“You are staying with _us_,” David hissed.

“Let go a’ me!” Bones exclaimed, jerking out of their grip and racing off the porch. He looked over his shoulder to see his father and daughter pursuing, murder in their eyes. “Shit, shit, _shit!_” he exclaimed, panting and puffing. He was no spring chicken; he wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace for very long. “Wake up, Leonard!” he muttered furiously to himself. “Wake up, wake up, wake-!”

Bones gasped, eyes flying open to find himself lying on a biobed next to Jim’s, T’Vonga pulling a hypospray away from his neck. “Radiation chamber!” he spluttered. “Pronto!”

* * *

“Your infecting yourself with the lotus’s pollen was a most foolish and illogical choice,” T’Vonga said after the spores in Bones’s system had been neutralized.

“I had to know why Jim would want to stay in the dream—now I know,” said Bones morosely, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. “The dream I had...I saw my daughter again, and my father was alive. For one shining moment, I was completely at peace. Perfect happiness. I’ve never known joy like that.”

“So the pollen...shows you your heart’s desire?” Barnes surmised.

“A simple way to put it.”

“So what does the Admiral see?” T’Vonga asked.

Bones stared somberly at Jim’s peacefully sleeping form. “There’s only one thing Jim could possibly want that bad—his husband back.”

“I didn’t know the Admiral was married,” said Barnes in surprise.

“It wasn’t really a secret, but his husband preferred discretion. Spock was a very private person.”

“_Captain Spock_ was Kirk’s _mate?_” T’Vonga said. Bones would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so grave—he’d never seen a Vulcan in shock before.

“Believe me, I’m their best friend. They were very much in love. Spock said he and Jim had some sort a’ special Vulcan bond. He said Jim was his tuh-hee-luh, or somethin’ like that.”

“His _t’hy’la_,” T’Vonga breathed, staring at Kirk in amazement...and perhaps pity. As a Vulcan, only she could understand the significance of what Jim had lost. Not just a friend or lover—a soulmate.

Bones shook his head miserably. “I’ve seen their love defy death itself. Cross the vastness of space to bring them back together. That kinda love only comes along maybe once a millennium. If Jim really is the only one who can wake himself up, if it means losing Spock _again_...then we may have lost him forever.”

* * *

Jim sighed with contentment as he lay back on the pillows, sated and spent. “Oh my god...it feels like we’ve been making love for hours.”

“You are exquisite, my love,” Spock purred, nuzzling his neck. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Mmm. So’re you,” Jim mumbled lazily. Then he blinked several times, then started to sit up. “I need to wake up though. I was supposed to be...doing something.”

“Surely it can wait,” Spock coaxed, snaking his arms around him and nibbling his ear.

Jim giggled. “As nice as this has been—_extremely_ nice—I have somewhere I have to go...”

“We can go anywhere, my _t’hy’la_. All you have to do is wish it.”

“I have to go to...the ship,” Jim realized.

“Easily done.”

Suddenly they were sitting on the empty bridge, Spock in the Captain’s chair and Jim on his lap, wearing their uniforms.

“No, no, I mean the _real_ ship,” said Jim, getting up. “I’ve been messing up lately. Too much sleep, not enough work.”

“It’s fine, my _ashayam_, you’re here with me,” Spock said, coming over to him and wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Forget about work. This is what matters. The ship will run without you.”

That made Jim freeze. He frowned, pulling out of Spock’s hold, cold realization setting in on him. He stepped away from him.

“My love? What is wrong?”

Jim turned around. “_This_,” he said in an accusatory voice. “Everything. _You_. My Spock would never tell me to blow off my work just to play with him.”

“But my dear, I _am_ your Spock.”

Jim shook his head. “No. You’re not. I don’t know who you are, but you are _not_ Spock.”

Spock stared at him for a moment, then smiled just a little too sweetly. “Well what does it matter? You have been happier with me than you ever have been in your whole life. Stay with me, Jim, and you can be this happy forever.”

“It’s not real though,” Jim protested. “This is just a dream. You’re not Spock...” His voice wavered. “He’s _dead_.”

“He doesn’t have to be, in here. In here he will live forever, and so will you.”

“But I have a _life_,” Jim said. “I have a ship and a crew I have to take home. I have friends who love me.”

“They will never love you like I do,” Spock said, stepping forward and grasping his hands. “Don’t you see that this is where you belong?”

“Spock, you’re hurting me,” Jim squeaked.

Spock squeezed even tighter. “You will not leave me,” he growled menacingly. “You are _mine_.”

Jim glared at him. “Like hell!”

He jerked out of Spock’s iron grip and bolted for the turbolift. But when the lift doors slid open, Spock was standing there, blocking his escape, glowering and incensed.

“You cannot escape me,” Spock said, marching forward and grabbing the front of his uniform. He slammed Jim into the wall. “You belong to _me_.”

Jim grabbed Uhura’s chair and lobbed at him, then ran in the other direction, feeling very much like a caged animal. “Why can’t I wake up?!” he gasped to himself.

Spock yowled in rage and bounded across the Bridge, tackling him to the floor. “What’s the matter, James? Don’t you want your love back?” he taunted.

“More than anything,” Jim gasped, struggling against him. “I’d give _anything_ to have him back! But—_unh!_—you’re a poor substitute!”

He kicked hard into Spock’s stomach and sent him sprawling backward. Jim tried to crawl away, but Spock grabbed his ankle and dragged him back.

“If I cannot have you willingly,” Spock said, wrapping his hands around Jim’s neck and beginning to squeeze, like he had done with the _ahn-wun_ all those years ago. “Then I shall have you _dead_.”

Jim gagged and tried uselessly to pry Spock’s hands from his throat-

* * *

“The Admiral’s heartrate is spiking,” T’Vonga exclaimed. “His blood pressure is critical.”

“He’s not breathing!” Barnes added.

“What are you waiting for, go get an oxygen tank! T’Vonga, get the cardiostabilizer!” Bones rushed to his friend’s side and grabbed his hand. “Come on, ol’ buddy, don’t you give up on me now!”

* * *

Suddenly a bright blue light swept across Jim’s darkening vision, and he heard Spock cry out in surprise. Then suddenly the tight pressure from his throat was gone and Jim gasped in desperate breaths.

“Wha-! _What are you?!_” he heard Spock exclaim over the ringing in his ears.

Jim mustered the strength to turn his head and see Spock cowering on the floor, staring fearfully at a large mass of shining blue energy. Jim gazed at it in wonder. He’d never seen something so _beautiful_...

Suddenly, spikes of lightning surged from the energy mass, attacking Spock. Spock screamed in anguish, and exploded into blue-white petals, fluttering harmlessly to the floor.

The energy mass hung there for a moment, then drifted out of Jim’s vision.

Jim scrambled to his feet. He watched the energy drift over to the other side of the bridge—to Spock’s science station. It lingered over the controls...suddenly Jim heard the gentle drone of the engines come online—he hadn’t even realized they were off.

* * *

“I don’t believe it,” Barnes said, staring at the readout in Jim’s vital signs. “He’s calming down. His heart’s stabilized on its own.”

“And his serotonin levels seem to be dropping as well,” T’Vonga observed.

* * *

Jim approached the energy cautiously. “What are you?” he asked. “Why did you save me?”

The energy seemed to turn toward him. It studied him in silence for a moment...then it reached out a tendril toward his cheek.

It touched him softly, and Jim’s eyes closed, everything suddenly going bright...

* * *

Jim’s eyes opened to see Bones hovering over him. “Jim, thank God!” Bones said.

Jim’s eyes welled up, and his face grew warm as it finally washed over him. “He’s gone,” he said, his voice cracking. “He’s really, really gone...”

Jim broke down, sitting up and burying his face in Bones’s uniform, weeping harder than he ever had in his life. He clung desperately to him as three months worth of tears finally burst forth.

Bones hugged him hard, a tear falling from his own eye. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

* * *

That night, Jim was sitting on the couch in his quarters, wrapped in a blanket. Bones, carrying a hot toddy from the replicator, sat beside him and handed him the mug. “Thanks,” Jim murmured, taking a sip.

“It was no trouble. Even a hayseed snakeoil vendor like myself coulda whipped it up.” Bones gave him a pointed look.

“I’m so sorry, I treated you awful,” Jim said, his voice thick with shame. “You know that wasn’t really me talking, right? Everyone with half a brain knows you’re the most brilliant doctor in Starfleet.”

“Just in Starfleet?”

“I mean, the Federation.”

Bones lifted an eyebrow at him, lips barely betraying a smile.

Jim laughed. “Okay, in the whole damn galaxy.”

“That’s more like it.” Bones softened. “And I forgive you.”

Jim sighed as he blew on his tea to cool it. “What a black mark this whole ordeal’s going to leave on my record. I’d be surprised if Starfleet gave me so much as a station as a janitor.”

“I’ve given them my report that you weren’t responsible for your actions.”

“But I was,” Jim said. “If I’d just told you the truth as soon as I started having the dreams...or if I’d handled my grief in a healthier way-”

“Grief is hard to process, Jim, especially grief like that. Spock was...your _person_. No one could be expected to act logically under those circumstances—not even a Vulcan.”

“Maybe…”

Bones gave him a long, contemplative look. “You gonna be okay?”

Jim looked into his mug, staring into the deep, warm brown liquid. “I will be,” he finally said.

“Hey. Now that you’re, you know, ready...you know you always have someone to talk to, right?”

Jim looked at Bones. He smiled sadly. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Bones,” he said, scooting closer and putting his head on his shoulder.

“Lord if I know,” Bones snorted. “Say...what was that thing that saved you? The blue energy.”

“Honestly?” Jim swallowed. “I think...it was Spock.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Somehow...I think he’s still with me.”

“As if he has been, and always shall be,” Bones added.

Jim lifted his head and looked at him strangely. “Yeah...” Then he replaced his head on Bones’s shoulder.

Bones sighed. “In a couple days we’ll be back on Earth. What say you an’ me take a few weeks off? Go on a fishin’ trip. Just you, me, an’ the worms. Could be good for us. Whaddya say...Jim?”

Jim snored softly against his shoulder.

Bones rolled his eyes. “Un-freakin’-believable.” He shook his head and looked down at his friend. “Goodnight, sweet prince,” he said in a softer tone, then closed his own eyes and nodded off too.

_The end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn’t completely obvious:
> 
> -The end of the fic happens the day/night before the beginning of Star Trek III, and Spock’s spirit has been rearing its head more and more inside Bones.  
-Bones unwittingly passed Spock’s katra into Jim’s mind when he grabbed his hand, so Spock was able to fight off evil/not real Spock.  
-Spock briefly took over Bones at the end to say “Goodnight, sweet prince” to his husband.


End file.
